


Sunny Side Up

by adreadfulidea



Category: Superstore (TV)
Genre: F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 00:44:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11543889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreadfulidea/pseuds/adreadfulidea
Summary: Jonah and Amy kept having sex. Given that she was still married, this was a problem.





	Sunny Side Up

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently writing women cheating on their disappointing husbands is my fetish now. Also I stole Jonah's backstory directly from GoldStarGrl. I hope she doesn't mind.

 

 

 

 

Jonah and Amy kept having sex. Given that she was still married, this was a problem.

He’d never thought of himself as being the kind of guy who would have an affair. That was what happened when people didn’t talk to each other, when they wouldn’t address their feelings. Jonah? He could talk about his feeling for days. Just ask his therapist. The one he used to to go to, before he moved and it got kind of hard to find - _anyway_. He wasn’t that kind of guy.

He’d known him, though. His roommate in college who used to kiss his girlfriend goodbye before she went home for the weekend and then go straight to a bar to pick up girls. The poker buddy who left his wife and three kids for a woman who promptly drained his bank account and disappeared. Or that was what he said had happened. Come to think of it, he’d owed Jonah money at the time.

Jonah’s college boyfriend who dumped him for a guy on the basketball team. And that - yeah, that one stung a little. But he got over it. They were friends now, left comments on each other’s instagrams and everything.

(His Dad, that one time with the babysitter. Jonah had been small enough to not understand what was going on. He’d come down for a glass of water and had asked what game they were playing.)

And Amy wasn’t that kind of girl. She was just struggling. She had her reasons.

It started when he had to bring Amy and Emma to the beach.

The store had been put back together for maybe a week. It was the same but not the same, in a really weird and surreal way. He and Amy hadn’t talked about - anything, really. Or they did, but it was all normal stuff. The weight of their kiss warped all their conversations. All Jonah could think about was what they _weren’t_ saying. And then, one sunny afternoon when Amy was supposed to be getting off early to take Emma swimming, Adam didn’t pick her up.

She’d changed into her suit, a pink tankini with a pair of cutoffs over it. He saw her standing outside, scrolling through texts on her phone, and when he passed by again she was still there fifteen minutes later. The slope of her shoulders told him something was wrong.

“You okay?” he asked, though he’d been telling himself he wouldn’t make it personal unless she made it personal.

“What the hell is a BlizzCon?” she asked.

“I have no idea.”

“Sorry, babe,” she read from the screen. “This is my only chance to win tickets to BlizzCon. You can take Emma, can’t you?” She looked over at Jonah, clearly frustrated. “He knows I can’t, my car is the shop.”

“I can bring you up,” he said, immediately, without thinking of the implications of it. “I have,” a glance at his watch, and then back at her, “thirty minutes left to go, but -”

He wanted her to say yes, he realized. Very badly.

She shoved her phone into her bag. “You can leave early.”

“Really? We don’t have to ask Glenn?”

“I’m your boss, Jonah,” she said. “If I say you can leave then you’re allowed to leave.”

She didn’t talk much on the drive over. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what was wrong, but of course he already knew, so he didn’t say anything.

Amy tucked her hair behind her ears. She still tended to do that, even though it was shorter now and escaped as soon as she moved her head or leaned forward. Jonah thought it was adorable. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m just really pissed off right now.”

“Hey,” he said. “You have every right to be.”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and he faltered.

He cleared his throat, faltering. She made him so nervous, sometimes. Or not nerves. Not exactly.

“We’ll have a good time,” he said. “The beach is relaxing, right?”

“Except for the seagulls,” she said. “Or the sand getting where it shouldn’t. Or the twenty-year olds in string bikinis.” She crossed her arms. “Though I guess you won’t mind that part.”

“Did I indicate that’s why I was going?” he asked. “At some point?”

Amy sighed. “No. I’m - I really do appreciate you doing this, Jonah. Emma will too.”

And she was going to have explain to her daughter why Dad didn’t show up again. Jonah wondered how often this sort of thing happened. What would Amy have done if he hadn’t been there? Would she have been able to stave off Emma’s disappointment on her own?

“It’s all good,” he said. “Too bad I didn’t bring any sunscreen. I burn like a lobster.”

Amy grinned. “Worried about your complexion?”

“ _Maybe_.”

“It’s not too hot out.” She turned her head, eyes following the fields of slightly yellowing grass going by. “I like going this time of year. It’s quieter.”

She perked up considerably when Emma and her friends descended on the car. “Oh yeah,” she said, upon seeing his expression. “A couple of the girls are coming, too. It’s sleepover night.”

“At yours?”

“No,” she said, nodding at a blonde girl with thick glasses. “At Kaylyn’s. We’ll have to drop them off afterwards.” She ushered the girls inside, in total Mom mode. “Everyone got their bags packed? Toothpaste, underwear? We’re not coming back for anything - Jonah has better things to do that drive you around.”

“I really don’t,” he said.

“Mom?” Emma asked. “Where’s Dad?”

“He had a job interview, honey,” Amy said. “It was, um. Kind of last minute.”

It was a bad lie, and Jonah knew Emma could tell. In the rear-view mirror he saw her cross her arms and look out the window, so much like her mother.

“Who wants ice cream?” he announced. “We can stop by Dairy Queen, I’ll buy.”

The girls all started yelling in excitement. Amy smiled at him, so nakedly grateful that it kind of hurt.

The beach wasn’t empty but it wasn’t crowded. Amy put down her towel not far from the waterline, which the girls ran into immediately, still carrying their soft-serve cones.

“Want to bet on who drops one in the water first?” he asked.

“We’re not going back for more,” she said. “I hope they’re clear on that.” She lay down on her back, her eyes drifting shut and her shoulders relaxing. Her skin gleamed in the sunlight. He kind of couldn’t stop looking. Thank god she didn’t notice.

“Aren’t you going to sit down?” she asked, when he didn’t.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sure - right.”

It was hot in his clothes, but taking his shirt off would have been ridiculous. The sand was the dark, gritty stuff, not white and fine like on a tropical beach. But it would have made great sandcastles if Emma and her friends weren’t too old for that particular activity. He let a handful of it slip through his fingers and tried to focus on anything but Amy’s warmth next to him.

 “This one time I was in Thailand with a couple of friends -” he started, but Amy snicked. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Of course you were.”

“Are you going to keep those on?”

“Keep what on?”

“The shorts,” he said. “You don’t need them, you know. You look really great.”

It wasn’t an entirely appropriate thing to say given their circumstances, and he could feel a blush starting, but Amy smiled. It curved across her face slowly, lazy and kind of sexy. “Shut up, Jonah,” she said, rolling her leg sideways so that it brushed against his.

 

 

Kaylyn lived in exactly the kind of house you’d expect a girl with that name to live in. It was large and painted pristine white and had an American flag hanging next to the door. The garden was as orderly as a row of cadets. All short, round plants like begonias and marigolds.

“No horror movies,” Amy said, giving Emma a hug. “You know they only end up giving you nightmares.”

Emma made a face. “ _Mom_ ,” she said, embarrassed, and ran into the house.

They sat silently in the driveway after the girls left. Jonah was the first one to speak, as he usually was.

“Uh, you - want -” His mouth was dry; he licked his lips and started over. “You want a drink, or something? To go get a drink, I mean?” He would have liked to pretend he didn’t know what he was doing but even Jonah’s admittedly phenomenal powers of self-deception didn’t extend that far. So he just threw it out there and waited, his nails biting into the palms of his hands, for a response.

“Yes,” she said, after a minute that was actually an hour. Sixty seconds had never lasted so long. He got back on the road before she changed her mind.

Someplace well lit, he thought. So she would know he wasn’t making assumptions. And nice. He wanted to take her somewhere nice.

Amy turned on the music, but unfortunately it was his original cast recording of _The Phantom of the Opera_. He slapped it off. She raised her eyebrows at him.

“I was enjoying the quiet,” he said. “It’s...relaxing.”

“I didn’t notice,” she said, and he couldn’t tell if she was annoyed with him or not.

“So there’s this place -” he started up, but Amy put her hand on his thigh.

“Pull over, Jonah,” she said. “We’re not going for a drink.”

He swallowed, and wondered if he should at least try to put up some kind of protest. But if he had Amy could have knocked them down with her little finger. He pulled over.

Without speaking, as though by psychic communion, they climbed into the back seat.

They looked at each other. “So,” he said.

“So,” she said, and sort of smiled a little, the corners of her eyes crinkling up. Then she took a very deep breath.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Do you want to stop?” Not that they’d done anything yet. But it was important to check in.

“Don’t ask me that again,” she said, and kissed him.

There was no wind roaring outside the car and the sky didn’t contain a single cloud. But it was like the tornado all over again. The urgent press of their mouths together. Her hands on the sides of his face. A thread of stillness pulled tight as razor wire.

And then it changed, slid sideways into something different. Hotter. He sucked on her lower lip. She licked her way into his mouth, her nails digging into his arms through his shirt. She started pulling at it, yanking it out of his pants so she could get her hands underneath.

“ _Amy_ ,” he said.

She pulled back, panting. “Tell me you have a condom.”

He did, in his wallet, and she took it from him and threw the wallet down on the floor somewhere. He didn’t know where it went; he didn’t care where it went, because then she was unzipping his pants and wrapping a hand around him.

He cursed, lifting his hips and pushing against her palm. She squeezed his cock and laughed, low and dirty. “You like that, huh?” she said, and stroked him again. Her hands were warm and a little calloused and felt _way_ too good.

He showed her how much he liked it, yanking the straps of her swimsuit down and kissing her again and then again, dizzying kisses that made his head spin.

“Here,” he said, fumbling at the button of her shorts and feeling incredibly frustrated that he had to move her out of his lap to get them off. He’d told her she didn’t need them. Amy was perfect, Amy was gorgeous -

Amy was rolling down the top of her swimsuit to try and get his hands on her breasts. He used his mouth instead, making her squirm and hiss out a long breath. He traced the edge of his thumbnail over one of her wet nipples just so he could watch her twitch.

“Look at you,” he said, and she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to pull him down on top of her.

“Condom,” she said, practically throwing it at him. And if his hands were shaking when he put it on, well, maybe she didn’t notice.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her face. Her mouth fell open when he pushed inside her, twisting a little, but in a good way. Such a good way. He kissed the underside of her jaw and opened her legs and started fucking her for real. There wasn’t much room to move and her swimsuit bottom was awkwardly yanked off to the side to get it out the way, but it didn’t matter because oh my god, oh my _god_.

Jonah wanted to tell her so many things; all of them dangerous. Amy, like this, was going to be burned on the back of his eyelids forever. Her hair spreading out behind her, how red her lips got from kissing, the way she slid her hands down to his ass and squeezed as he fucked her.

“Come on,” she said. “Harder than that, come on -”

So he gave it to her like she wanted, making them both shudder. The car seat creaked out of control underneath them, the sound of their harsh breathing thick in the air. One of his hands was braced on the car window, palm flat to the glass. He snaked the other between them to spread her slick around, rubbing her clit with the tips of his fingers until she cried out and went tight, _so_ tight around him.

She bit her lip when she came. He was going to know that forever, that she bit her lip, that her eyes squeezed shut, that she whimpered like she almost couldn’t handle it.

His hips snapped forward out of his control, totally off rhythm, and that was how he came; gasping for air and grinding into her as far as he could go. His legs were so weak in the aftermath that he felt them tremble when he tried to get off of her.

“Wait,” she said, stopping him with her hand on the small of his back.

And he wanted to. He did. But.

“...condom safety?” he said.

She shoved at his shoulders, her own shaking with laughter. “Oh my god,” she said. “Fine, go take care of it. You loser.”

He threw it out the window, which was sort of disgusting but probably the only option. “Did I ruin the moment?”

Amy was combing her hair with her fingers and pulling her bathing suit top back up. It was no use; she looked like she’d been doing exactly what they’d been doing. “No,” she said. “I think I needed that. But,” she met his eyes briefly and then broke contact, “it can only be a one-time thing. You understand, don’t you?”

The worst part was that he did. There was Adam. And worse, and much less forgivable, there was Emma.

“A one time thing,” he echoed, trying to smile, trying not to make a big deal of it.

(It should have been. But it wasn’t.)

 

 

The next time, an almost-time, was at work.

They ended up in one of the stalls in the changing room. It was after the store closed, though not by much. Glenn had gone to attend to a foster child emergency and half the lights were off. Amy said she wanted to talk to him, and they crept into one of those darkened parts. The change room was as private as it was going to get.

“Look,” she said, seriously, and for a terrifying, exhilarating moment he thought she was going to say she was pregnant. A defective condom or - he didn’t know why he thought that, and thankfully he didn’t say anything, because what happened next was that she kissed him. And so he knew what this was about, and what she wanted.

And he didn’t say no.

She was undoing his belt when somebody knocked on the closed door. They froze in place, eyes wide and turned toward the sound.

“Hello, valued customer,” Garrett said. “It is now nine-thirty at night, the store is closed, and you are going to have to _leave_.”

“It’s me,” said Jonah, and also Amy, at exactly the same time. She banged her forehead on his chest, her jaw clenched. Her fingers were still grasping his belt buckle.

There was a pause. “ _What_?” Garrett asked.

“They’re obviously having sex,” said Dina, who was also out there because Jonah couldn’t catch a damn break. “Probably not very good sex.”

“That’s just rude,” Amy said.

“That she thinks you’re having sex?” Garrett asked. “Or that she thinks it’s bad?”

“Both,” said Amy. “And weren’t you trying to bang him yourself, that one time?”

“Jonah?” Garrett asked. “He’s too delicately built for me.”

“I meant Dina.”

“I was talking about you,” Dina said. “You’re very uptight, Amy. Very repressed, I would say.”

“I don’t think she’s uptight,” said Jonah.

“You were right,” said Garrett, to Dina. “They’re having sex.”

“Not for nothing,” she said. “But your babies would be ugly. Also infidelity is a sin.”

“Our babies would be beautiful, _Dina_ ,” Amy snapped, and Jonah felt his heart and his stomach turn over.

“All babies are beautiful,” Sandra agreed, from the next stall.

Amy made a sound like a teakettle about to boil over. “Oh, for - why are you even in there, Sandra?”

“I like a quiet place to think,” she said.

Amy threw the door open so quickly that Jonah narrowly missed everyone seeing him scrambling to return his belt to its proper order. “We are not having sex,” she said. “We only came in here to talk, because we are _professionals_ , and why the hell haven’t any of you gone _home_ yet?”

“Garrett and I thought the room might be free,” said Dina. “You know. For sex.”

“Baby, that’s oversharing,” said Garrett. “We talked about this.”

“Whoa,” Jonah said. “You’re calling her baby, now? That’s huge. Are you like, dating? For real?”

“Congratulations,” said Sandra. “Isn’t love wonderful?”

“Be quiet, Sandra!” Dina shouted.

“Right,” Amy said. “I’m done.” She stormed off into the clothes racks. But she couldn’t have been that mad, because Jonah received a text from her while he was driving home.

_Your place?_ it read.

He texted her his address.

 

 

Jonah’s place was on the second floor of one of those buildings that looked like a motel from a distance. It had a walkway that connected all the apartments but no real balconies, though some old people sat outside in folding chairs on warm days all the same. The walls were painted a sickly industrial yellow and there was a swimming pool in the courtyard that someone kept throwing garbage in. There were worst places and there were better places. Sometimes he was grateful he had even this, after the ten-car pile-up he’d made of his life. Sometimes he thought of his brothers, and their houses with french doors and expansive gardens and marbled kitchen islands, and felt ashamed. Neither of them had ever visited him here.

Inside the apartment it was painted the usual eggshell white with slightly out of date carpeting. Most of his furniture he’d had since college, the first time he went, undergrad chic. He’d never been able to replace it, having been too busy fucking up. Not without asking for money. And he’d done enough of that.

There used to be plants but he wasn’t good at remembering to water them, so they’d died. An african violet and a fern he’d picked up at the farmer’s market. He put pictures of his family up on the walls and soviet-era movie posters.

There were clothes on the floor. He ran around picking them up, wiping the counters down, checking and double-checking the bathroom to make sure it was okay. It wasn’t that long since Kristen had been here - was any of her stuff still kicking around? Did it matter?

He also changed the sheets.

“I can’t stay long,” Amy said, as soon as he let her in.

“So no drink?” he asked. He had a bottle of wine in the fridge. She shook her head.

“I want -” she said, and then stopped, like she couldn’t really say it out loud. He had the same feeling. As if there was always someone listening, ready to carry a message back to Adam.

But god, he wanted her. More than he could remember wanting anyone in recent memory. The sight of her taking off her practical jacket, walking around the kitchen - it was enough to get him going.

“Let me take that,” he said, and was relieved when she handed it over. So she was going to stay. At least for a little while.

When he came back in she was messing around with his Chemex coffee maker. She let go, looking embarrassed.

“What is that thing?” she asked. “It looks like it came from a chemistry set.”

“It’s for coffee,” he explained. “It was a birthday gift. See, you -”

“Jonah,” she said. “I don’t care about the coffee.”

“Oh,” he said. “Good.”

Their first kiss was almost chaste. Maybe it always would be, for them, for as long as this lasted. Amy stood on her tiptoes - which was incredibly cute, he wanted to tell her how cute - with her arms around his waist.

“Bedroom?” he asked.

She considered it. “No,” she said, and nodded towards the living room. “In there.” Which was how she ended up on her back in the lamplight, golden and beautiful, with his head between her legs.

The muscles in her soft thighs tensed. He would have told her how gorgeous her curves were if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. Instead he pressed the palm of his hand to the soft swell of her lower belly. She moved it, but held it, and slid her other hand into his hair. Her heels scraped down his back.

“Fuck,” she said while he licked and sucked her to orgasm. “Fuck fuck _fuck_ -”

She let go of him at the climax, stuffing her fingers in her mouth to try and muffle the sounds she was making. He wanted to to take her hand back. To hear everything she had to give. He was dizzy with need, his knees hurting from kneeling, his hair a mess from her hands. He hadn’t been touched yet.

“Show me,” she said, after she came down, and it took him a minute to understand what she was asking for. He flushed heavily when he did.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Didn’t I say I was?” Amy said, teasing, and settled back for the show. But when he reached for himself, she sat up. “No,” she said. “Up here, where I can see you.”

She peeled his jeans down his thighs when he sat next to her. And then she didn’t do anything else. She just grinned, propped her chin up on her knuckles, and watched.

He closed his eyes, stroking his cock loosely, trying not to concentrate on her presence beside him. He wasn’t going to last, and she must have wanted him to -

Amy tapped the center of his chest. “Hey,” she said. “Look at me.”

His eyes flew open. “Oh,” he said, his voice cracking. His face itched with heat. He felt like there was a spotlight on him, and it was unbearable and incredible all at once. “Oh, Amy -”

“I like how you say my name,” she said.

He had to kiss her then, he _did_ , rough and messy and wanting everything all at once. She made a startled sound against his lips, her hand curling around the back of his neck, and he came in a couple of sloppy thrusts.

“Bet that makes jerking off more fun than when you were thirteen,” she said, hopping off the couch, hopefully to go find a wet washcloth. Her ass was still bare under the hem of her shirt; she looked like a pin-up. He watched her go until she disappeared into the bathroom. She was going to kill him.

 

 

The irony about sleeping with Amy was that they spent less time together _outside_ of the bedroom. He didn’t help her out when Adam failed to show any longer, both of them too afraid a pattern would emerge. At work they talked about only about work. Or the weather, or what Garrett had said during the last staff meeting, or that shoplifter who tried to smuggle an entire tent down his pants.

It was weird, missing someone he was having an affair with.

He couldn’t be in a room with Amy without wanting to touch her. If their elbows bumped together while they were pricing children’s toys he felt a jolt of electricity go through him. “I’m thinking of going home,” he said, one day while they were stocking cans of tomatoes. “To visit for a little while.” And he was thinking of it, he was usually thinking of it, he just never got around to actually doing it. He always got stuck on having to look everyone in the face, after all his disasters, and decided not to go. Obligatory holidays were bad enough. He couldn’t tell if they wanted him near them voluntarily.

There had been high expectations for Jonah, once. Now there were none. And god help him, he didn’t know which was worse.

“That’s nice,” Amy said, so non-committally that they might have met only yesterday.

“Are you guys fighting?” Garrett asked him not long after. He did it almost carefully, like he was concerned.

“Haha,” said Jonah, trying to control whatever facial tic he was having. “We - we aren’t - why? Why would we be fighting? What reason could we have - no. We aren’t fighting.”

“Wow,” Garrett said, and rolled away, shaking his head.

And of course, Amy had a lot to lose. More than anyone he’d ever been with, ever.

He got to thinking about that a lot, too.

(Jonah wasn’t a good prospect. He wasn’t a good prospect even if she had been single. And he should be telling her so. He didn’t, because Jonah had always been way too selfish.)

He started having trouble sleeping, which was how all the trouble had begun way back when. He bought a white noise machine from Craigslist, which didn’t help. He also started watching ASMR videos on youtube, which sometimes did. He had one of them up when Amy appeared at his door on a perfectly ordinary Thursday night, a bag on her shoulder.

“Hi,” she said, looking kind of sheepish. “Emma’s with her grandparents and Adam went to Cleveland for his brother’s bachelor party, so.” She shrugged. “Can I come in?”

“Hell yes,” he said, lighting up. “You want anything? Drinks, food? Want to watch a movie?”

“A movie would be nice,” she said. “No artsy crap.”

“Only blockbusters, got it.”

She looked at his laptop screen. “What’s this?”

Jonah scratched the back of his head. “It helps me sleep,” he said. He wished he’d closed the window down.

She put his headphones in a listened for a minute. “I feel like I’m having a stroke,” she said.

It was the first night they spent together that they didn’t have sex. They watched Netflix - three episodes of _Stranger Things_ rather than a movie - and got into bed together after. Amy’s feet were sore from working a double shift, so he rubbed them for her. She turned out the light at half-past eleven. And the whole time there was a voice in Jonah’s head screaming at him: _you should tell her, you should tell her_. _You have to tell her_.

“Amy,” he said, his hand tucked under the edge of her pyjama shirt.

She yawned. “Yeah?”

He chickened out. “What do you want for breakfast?”

It was hard to tell, but he thought she was smiling. “Eggs,” she said. “I like eggs.”

But the guilt was still there in the morning. It was there when he opened his eyes, when Amy stirred beside him, when she rolled over and pressed her face into the side of his neck.

“I have to tell you something,” he said.

She went tense. “You found a girlfriend,” she said.

“What?” he said. “No, why would I do that?”

Amy shifted away, back to her side of the bed. She brushed her hair back and frowned. “I don’t see why the hell not,” she said. “I have a husband.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Jonah said. “I have a gambling addiction.”

It was the first time he’d ever said it out loud. The first time he’d ever used the word addiction.

She squinted at him. Almost like she didn’t believe it. “So like,” she said, “My name is Jonah and I’m…?”

“Exactly like that,” he said. “I’m not currently -”

What would the term even be? Using? No, that couldn’t be correct.

“- active,” he said. “I haven’t been for awhile. But - I owe my Dad quite a bit of money. Like, um. A lot. He had to bail me out.”

“How much?” Amy asked.

“Twenty thousand dollars,” Jonah said.

Amy drew in a deep breath. “That _is_ a lot.”

“I’m paying it back,” he said. “Slowly.” And anyone who worked at Cloud 9 would know how slowly it had to be. “And I haven’t fallen off the wagon, or anything.” Except for that one time at work. God, he’d gotten lucky. It could have been so much worse. A casino, online poker again, convincing himself that Vegas was a good idea. And Jonah’s problem, the problem of all gamblers, was that deep down he thought any bit of luck he received was never going to run out. He had to force himself to acknowledge it as a finite resource. As something that wasn’t real, and certainly did not favor him. “But I screwed up. Really badly. And I thought you would want to know.”

She’d gone very quiet. Jonah kept looking up at the ceiling.

So, he thought. Ending with a whimper instead of a bang.

“Okay,” she said.

He blinked, and turned his head towards her. “Really?”

She smiled. “Really,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong. I expect you to keep your nose clean. I’m not going to pick up after you, Jonah.”

“I won’t ask you to,” he said. “I swear to god, Amy. Never.”

“I know,” she said. She pulled the blankets up over her shoulders, settling in. There was a line on her cheek from the pillow. He wanted to touch it. He wanted to kiss her, and tell her how he felt about her, and do a million other things. “Aren’t you supposed to be making me breakfast?”

Jonah laughed. He felt so light, suddenly. He could have floated away. “Yes, Amy,” he said. “You can have anything you want.”

 

 

 


End file.
